J Mauldin - Final Solution

The hatch whooshed open to admit Liberty, making my heart skip a beat. I nearly stood but found she wasn’t alone, our Navigator, Rosaleigh Head, was on her heels. I kept my eyes fixed on the bogus task.

“My dogs are barking,” Liberty groaned, plopping down on her bed and rubbing her feet.

Rosaleigh let out a rich laugh and tossed back some water. “Way to pull out an ancient figure of speech. You sound like my auntie.”

“Well, I mean, they hurt so bad it requires a bit of antiquity. Only half a G in this place and exercise still blows. Damn my flat feet.”

“Better than growing soft and withering away.”

Liberty glanced in my direction, but I was able to slide behind a bunk and lay low, only showing her my back. “I suppose. But a nice, tall glass of gin, my feet propped up on the couch—now that’s luxury.”

“When the job’s done.”

“The job will never be done.” I could almost hear Liberty’s eyes rolling.

I fiddled with the tools and kept listening, checking the temperature of the intake’s surfaces again and again. 70 degrees. 71 degrees. 70 degrees.

“Ain’t that the truth?” The back of Rosaleigh’s head crashed on her pillows and she stared up at the ceiling. “This is my fifth tour. Keep trying to leave but there’s no one to replace me. That’s what you get for being damn good at your job—a prison sentence.”

“Maybe you should start underachieving. Could be an advantage.”

“I doubt your father would let that fly in any case. I know my step wouldn’t, and we’re not outside com range. He made me take piano as a teen just so I’d be a better rounded adult.”

“Oh yeah? Do you play well?”

“Like a demon,” Rosaleigh growled, “and I hated every second of it.”

I was frozen in place where I crouched, head cocked, listening. Then there was a shift in the air. A shadow over my shoulder. I pivoted.

“Goddard? What in blazes are you doin’ in ’ere?” Lank Hair. Fuck. Liberty and Rosaleigh shifted their attention.

“Just, umm, fixing some filters, sir.”

Lank Hair stared at me for a moment, came to a conclusion, and removed his stun stick. “I be knowin’ when that’s the case. Come on, ya didn’t put in a work order.”

“I’m almost finished. Look, I—”

“Bollocks! Up with ya. You know the rules, clear as day.”

“Just a moment, sir.” I pointed to the air intake, looking for any manner of distraction. “I’ll be done and get gone.”

“That’s it! I’m gonna cite you for this one.”

“What the hell? For doing my job? This is bull.”

“You ain’ doin’ yer job. You just be in here gawkin’ at the lady folk, havin’ a mental toss with the birds.” He removed a small tablet from his belt and made a mark. “Now, on with ya before I hand you a second for my trouble.”

I picked up my tools and stalked out.

“Don’t let me see you back in ’ere again without an order!”

“I got your order right here,” I mumbled as I grabbed a handful of my jumpsuit’s crotch.

It was too bad he couldn’t see the gesture.

A searing wave of anger swept me through the day, foaming and roiling into a furious surf that crested and crashed upon my raw heart, leaving only dread as it receded with the tidal shift of time.

A red alert went off. I checked my earpiece. No signal.

Danger passed and I started to unclench my teeth, though not before punching a support rib and drawing blood.

My joints throbbed along with the rest of the structure of the ship.

There was nothing to be done for it. Any of it. I had found myself in a precarious situation, a meteor tumbling into the Sun, captured by its pull, powerless to stop. The best I could hope was to slip into low orbit, become a satellite of crumbling matter ablated by flare after flare from the star’s searing corona. Romance is gravity. This time it would be my end. No escaping the inevitable.

César and I were suspended within the Maintenance Core, a tunnel that lead from Nuclear Storage in aft to the forward end. From here we had access to a plethora of critical umbilicals, life support, high voltage distribution, computer core routing and direct lines to chemical data storage. Being that we were at the center of the ship’s axis, there was little spin gravity to be had. The Vindicator rotated around us in a slow, silent waltz, and as she accelerated, she forced us to drift gently to the relative base of her hundred meter spine. Without focusing on the walls it was hard to stay oriented. The aft end of the ship felt as if it were a long way down.

César used a small attachment on his red handled combo torch to reconnect a series of semi-conductors that were part of our lighting control, knees fastened to the wall by strips of Velcro. After a power trip two days earlier, they’d needed replacing. The torch did its job, though sloppily, every cut jagged and uneven. The master computer could’ve handled this function without an independent control, but since hacking was possible via the Sol Net or telemetry feed, we kept our critical systems segregated. Information, propulsion, weapons, navigation, lighting, and life support, all had their own networks. They could theoretically be linked together by cable if the need arose, but never were. It was far too dangerous a prospect. Besides, those cables were hard to clip and unclip without a screwdriver or long fingernails, an engineering flaw to be sure. It was best to keep the independent controls up and running as they were designed.

I noticed that one of the old style power connections to my right, a NEMA 5-15, had been doodled on. Someone had drawn around the plate in black, making it look as if the top plug, a man, was drilling the bottom plug, a woman, doggy style, both their mouths wide with shock. I cocked an eyebrow and shook my head, then flexed my aching fingers.

“When are you going to fix your torch?” I asked César, kicking a support beam to arrest my fall and curling into a ball suspended at the center of the tunnel. “I know you’re using the solder for now, but it’s a bad nozzle on that plasma cutter. All you have to do is go print a new one, let the input melt it down and make another piece. It’s bent, I’m telling you.”

He cut off the torch and glared back at me. “Uh huh. I see. Bent,” his response was clipped.

“You okay?”

“Am I okay? Am I okay? Unbelievable.”

My lips compressed into a two dimensional line. “Is there something you need to say, Private?”

“As a matter of fact, señor, there is. What do you think you’re doing? I see it written all over your face.” Insubordination filled his words and poisoned the air between us.

I uncoiled and my back went stiff. “I’m sorry?” I let out of cough. “What was that?”

He threw up his hands and fumed. “Don’t play dumb. With Jane! Come on! What are you doing?”

I rubbed my face and chuckled. “What are you talking about?”

The unlit torch shook at me like a weapon. “I know you like her. I see how you flirt with her. She’s my girl, alright? We started going serious a few days ago. I don’t want to have to hurt you. So back off, please. Make it easy for me to be good.”

“Back off, please…?” I let the question hang. My watch bleeped and buzzed but I ignored it. There was a more pressing matter.

“Back off, please, señor.” His eyes turned dark, a look I’d never seen in him before. This was the look of someone who knifed a stranger in a bar fight, not a good friend. “I’ve seen how you guys act around each other! I know the things you want to do to her! It’s so plain, so obvious. And it’s bullshit. I will fight for her if I have to. We can go right here, right now, in zero-g where no one will see us. Winner takes all? What do you say, tough guy? Like two cholo s down in the Valles.”